


A Gift of New Beginnings

by tryslora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Holiday Gifts, M/M, Meeting the Family, Mistletoe, New Beginnings, Presents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-21 05:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's relationship with Draco is still new, and there is something important Harry must do: meet Draco's son, Scorpius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gift of New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SdSmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SdSmith/gifts).



> This is a holiday card gift ficlet for singlemomsummer. As always, JK Rowling owns the characters and world of Harry Potter; I just like to write here.

Harry turns the box over in his hands, looking at the bright silver wrapping. It matches Draco’s eyes, and Harry can’t help but wonder if that makes it too precious. Too presumptuous. Like he’s trying to fit in.

He _has_ to be able to fit in. This… this is his unexpected late in life gift. One failed marriage, no kids, all his friends paired off and married… he’s been lonely these last few years. He hadn’t expected to find this, of all things. But then there had been the pub, that one night, and a long conversation going over years of antagonism.

Ending with a kiss and eventually _more_ than a kiss.

But this. This… this is something different. Something even more than that.

The knock comes and Harry jumps to his feet, rushing to the door to pull it open. The man standing there is familiar. More than thirty years familiar, ever since they were eleven years old, and the boy standing by his side could be a passage back in time to that first year of Hogwarts. His pointed chin, his silvered eyes, his hair that is carefully slicked back from his face.

“You must be Scorpius,” Harry says. He resists the instinct to crouch down; this boy is too old for that treatment. Instead he sticks his hand out, clasping the smaller hand firmly. “I’m Harry Potter.”

“Father speaks of you often,” Scorpius says politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry sees Draco smirk at the introduction, and he guesses that Draco, too, is remembering that first time they met and Harry’s refusal of his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Scorpius, and I hope we’ll be able to be friends.”

Scorpius’s thin lips purse. His gaze drops to the package on the table, then one eyebrow arches when he looks back at Harry. “That will depend upon several things.” A slow breath before he adds, “Blaise tries to buy my affections.”

Blaise Zabini. Harry remembers him from long ago, as a self-assured overly handsome Slytherin in Draco’s year. He was merely a face in classes then, but now he knows from the society pages that he is Astoria’s second husband, and Scorpius’s stepfather. He is moneyed, and traditional, and Harry suspects that he has created a minefield for Harry to walk through in this situation.

“Well, it’s Christmas,” Harry points out. “And when I was growing up, Christmas was a horrible time, and there were a lot of things I didn’t get much of. Like Christmas trees and holiday gifts, so I like to enjoy them now.”

Scorpius frowns slightly. “You didn’t?”

Harry gestures for Scorpius to turn around, and takes his cloak, then takes Draco’s as well. A wave of his wand sends them both to the coat closet. “I didn’t. I lived with my aunt and uncle, and they didn’t like magic at all, so they didn’t like me much,” he admits. “They liked to spoil my cousin, and didn’t like to spend anything on me. In fact,” Harry confides, “when I first met your father, he reminded me of my cousin.”

The corners of Scorpius’s mouth twitch but he doesn’t quite give in to the smile. He follows Harry into the front room, sitting in the open chair. Scorpius stiffens when Harry drops onto one end of the sofa, and Draco sits idly on the arm of the sofa behind him, close enough to touch the back of Harry’s neck.

Draco has yet to say a word. Harry isn’t sure if that’s a good or a bad thing, but he has to go with it right now. It’s sink or swim on his own merit it seems.

But those fingers, idly drifting across the skin just beneath the edges of his hair, anchor him. He leans back slightly into the touch, feeling the press of fingertips in return, and it is as good as a held hand or a snog to remind him of what he has found with Draco.

“Why did he remind you of your cousin?” Scorpius leans forward. His gaze slips over his father to land on Harry, as if he somehow can refuse to see what is between them. Harry sees the hands clasped in his lap, catches the tension there.

“He was a spoiled horrid brat,” Harry says easily. “But he outgrew it, and so did my cousin eventually. He actually married a witch about three years ago. Your Aunt Daphne.”

Scorpius’s eyes grow wide. “Dudley’s your cousin? He’s a good bloke. Always laughing, tells brilliant jokes. And he never tells tales if we sneak an extra bit of chocolate.”

“Like I said, they’ve both outgrown being the prats they were.” Harry’s hand falls to rest on Draco’s knee, squeezing gently. “The point I was trying to make is that Christmas is important to me. The music, the tree, having family all around. And the gifts. No one ever wanted to give me gifts, not until I went to Hogwarts and found people who made me their family. So that’s what it is to me: you give things to the people you care about. Or to the people that _they_ care about.”

Scorpius’s gaze flicks from Harry to Draco then back again. “So you think I’m your family,” he says slowly. “I’m not, you know. He’s my father, but I’m not your son.”

“I didn’t think you were.” Harry nods at the box. “I’m looking for you to be a friend, and for you not to hate me for dating your father. I know it’s odd for you—”

“Yeah.” Scorpius looks at the box. “So I should open it?”

“It’s yours.”

Harry leans back, feeling Draco’s arm circle around him. For a moment his eyes close, and he takes comfort in this, in having found his place. He can’t know if he’s gotten the gift right. He had a feeling that anything he could get would be somehow construed incorrectly. He didn’t want to buy a toy, he didn’t want to buy jokes, he couldn’t buy Quidditch gear. He’d had to find something different, but not entirely different. Something an eleven year old boy in the midst of his first year at Hogwarts would like.

“Tickets to Nationals?” Scorpius holds the parchment in his hands, and looks at Harry.

“One for you, and the other three are for however you want to split them up, but you _must_ take at least one parent,” Harry says. “Who you take is between you and your dad and your mum, and that’s for you to sort out. They’re not good until summer, of course, so you’ve got to get through the rest of the year at Hogwarts.”

“I could take my mum and Blaise,” Scorpius says slowly.

Harry nods. “Or your mum and two friends, or your dad and two friends.”

“I don’t have to take you.” Scorpius’s pointed chin lifts as he states the question bluntly, and Harry smiles.

“You don’t have to take me,” Harry assures him. “The tickets are yours. The only restriction is you must take one of your parents. You’ve got time to figure out the rest.”

Scorpius looks at the tickets, and the smile is slow as he nods. “Thank you, Mr. Potter. I appreciate the gift.”

There’s a whistle from the kitchen as the hot water boils on the stove, and Harry nods at the door. “There are things set up for cocoa if you want to go pour us three cups. You’ll find cream in the fridge and several different tins of biscuits. Pick out your favorite.”

Scorpius glances at his father, and when Draco nods, Scorpius is through the door quickly. Harry can hear things banging around in the kitchen, and figures they have at least a few minutes of privacy.

Draco’s fingers touch beneath his chin, tilting his head back. The kiss is quick and fleeting and not long enough for Harry’s taste. He reaches up, pulling Draco back into a longer kiss, eyes closed as he loses himself for a moment. “So, how am I doing?” Harry finally asks.

“Just fine,” Draco murmurs, forehead to forehead with Harry. “He likes you so far. I think the biggest hurdle is that fact that his father has a boyfriend, but we’ll get past that. Who knows, maybe next summer he’ll ask you to go to Nationals with him.”

“It doesn’t matter if he does.” Harry kisses Draco again, one ear listening for Scorpius to come back. “The gift is for him, not me.”

“Ew, no kissing.” Scorpius carries a tray with three steaming mugs of cocoa and two plates.

“Mistletoe.” Draco points above his and Harry’s head, and kisses him once more. “What have you got there, Scorpius?”

The boy sets the tray down, and solemnly hands a mug to each of Draco and Harry before taking the third for himself. “Chocolate biscuits, they’re my favorite. And treacle tarts.” He glances at Harry. “Father says you like them.”

“They’re my favourite.” Harry kept a tin for special occasions, miniature tarts for single servings, but they weren’t with the other tins of biscuits. Yet there they were, on a plate, held out by Scorpius’s hand for Harry to take one. “Thank you.” He smiles, and Scorpius smiles shyly back.

Harry feels Draco’s fingers at his back, and he recognizes Scorpius’s gesture for what it is. The connection is tenuous, but it is there.

He reaches for Draco’s hand, and their fingers tangle together. This first meeting has gone well, and while it is only a beginning, it holds hope. Someday, perhaps, this will be Harry’s family. And that pleases him more than he can say.


End file.
